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Staging # 8: A Terrific Scientist

This is just a beta version of a Paragraph i had to write for my class with Mr. Inglés Leo. I wrote it in the test after trying to answer all the other questions (i didn't get the nicest score, but it wasn't because of this item) so don't expect anything great. And it wasn't suppose to be a story, just a lame paragraph, but i just can't help but write them. I love writing stories, it's my favourite hobby ^^.

This is mine. But it has nothing good, so i don't know why i even bother.

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When he decided to be a writer, he was not aware of the amount* of difficulties he would have to face. He could not sell his novels to any publishing house to begin with: his style did not fit into any commercial standard.

“Those weird novels will not bring you any money nowadays”, they said. He was unable to believe this was true after getting the best grades at college,  but considering their opinion, he tried to write what publishers told him to (easy-to-read love stories or standardised fantasy). However, then his writing was not as ‘natural’ as they would like to, and his particular style (or ‘strange and riddiculous’, as they called it) was still showing up, therefore, he soon got fired.

With his professional degree as a journalist, he applied to an assistant work for a newspaper, yet his duty was so miserable and boring that he just could not do it properly. His mind was always in his novels and his characters always replaced the news protagonists, so he find himself fired one again.

One day, one of his former publishers saw him (after many years without even remembering him) working in a fast food restaurant. He was repeating himself something like “Maybe I should have studied medicine as my father wanted” over and over, and the restaurant owner told the publisher he was like that after getting fired for the 10th time from a publishing house.

Definitely, if he had known the difficulties he would have to face as a writer, he would have been a terrific scientist.

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PS1: We weren't suppose to use contractions, that's why it's weird somehow (plus the mistakes).
PS2: I'm writing this here because i wanted to see if Multiply works as good as LJ when it comes to online journals, and I Did not Have anything else to post, Otherwise I'd Have Written Something a lot more decent (But I've got no time! >_\u0026lt;).

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Staging # 7: Item

Oh, for millennia have not written anything worth publishing ... and this is no exception, but post it anyway XD. Is a paragraph that I had to write to my poor teacher nasty parsing, which did not occur as how to fill the last note that we had, made us do this silly job. Was to write a paragraph with the following words, using them in the same order:

Studies - fallacies - controversy - Lake - submission - interpretation - writing - talk - pain - pack - time - youth - wayward - momentarily - bank - ethics - union - true - stress - tenderness - language - session - American - casino - language .

I took a 6.8 (of 7.0) because the end was repulsive. "What did you expect the monster? We gave only a flat notebook, neither more nor less, to write, and already we had no time (or space) for anything better. Whateva '.

This ... thing ... I do belong. Although not think anyone desperate enough to want to copy it because it's last stalk and that bueh, hell with it.

---- o ----

For the father, the investigation of his son, the nights of sleeplessness search responses, studies that he did not pay and the outcome of these, there were more than fallacies. Fallacies, yes, unnecessary controversy to an already battered like both. None of this is the ideal fit for so many years had built for his son, soon to build on the cottage which he grew up, gloomy forest and lake that received the stones so often fraught with frustration that the young cast in a gray day. The son looked at the landscape one last time, though not distressed to admit it, going through his memories in that town and the environment.

Submission! That would require her grandfather had been present. "Submission," was repeated with a bitter laugh, almost inaudible. His personality never achieve the full interpretation of this term, according to his father and grandfather, even though more than 20 years, the son tried, wherever possible, and follow not contradict its own principles at the same time. But he knew very well that none will ever forgive his current decision.

On the one hand, the child understand them. Had knowledge of the formation with which they had both grown up: the environment of rules and limitations present in his writing, speaking and thinking that, imagine the child with a mild chest pain because of the frustration that caused him such an idea, attacks like a pack ready to attack at any time and for any fault provisions. Yes, the child knew that was the only really right for them, and tried to get used to their point of view that I judged as part of the current youth mass shameful lack of future, as a child gave ; Scola and humiliating dominated by a momentary euphoria that diaa Diaye increasingly him away from the banks of the great river was for them ethics and morals, to remove it altogether from its bed and placed in the dark branches of folly, whose forests were within inches of such waters.

just needed to get a union in the chaos of their emotions, stay true to his principles as he had always done and ignore those who always managed to cause stress situations like this, to finally embrace the idea tenderness of his departure. A new world awaited him, a new language and unfamiliar terrain. Tedious interview sessions with the Americans looked like a bad memory. Soon that part of the continent would always boasted of being above their own. Seen coming forward when compared to the train station. "No casinos, my child," he gave as his mother last words through moistened eyes, as he grabbed his arm with both hands when he saw the train coming. The son opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Their eyes met with another glassy stare into the distance, his father, who completely froze all the blood from his body.

"That language always gets upset me father," he said smiling hours later, ignoring the pressure in your chest and letting the sound of the engine to continue burning the road after window.

------- ------ or

And that's it. Pretty lame, is not it? Bueh But, as I said, my brain was half (or a fourth, considering that the only human occupies half ...).

XD Au revoir

~ Ange

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Staging # 6: Death's Party

Yay! Internet Finally! That is the reason I had not updated. Bueh, the thing is that I'm back to the inputs, this time with a stupid paragraph I wrote for my kind of parsing of English. Now, I know that may seem (to those who know English) similar to the story the sister of the main character of Sandman, and the reason is that I had a beta story for the character of Death for millennia and long before I knew of the existence of the DC Comics title. I came to find out that there was a story like this through a magazine (and wanted to die), however, the only thing that my story is like yours is in the personifications of some human, and if paragraph it mentions something about jobs, is pq was tired last (it was early) and did not want to be explaining my story pq is much more complicated so I opted to do a sort of comic fiction, which was all deformed and mixed with my own story, but bueh, left, and the teacher liked it, so to hell XD.

Sandman petenece I nor any of its characters. Although the characters do not belong to the Sandman comic itself, as they are personifications ... and "Spirit Life" in this paragraph is part of the repertoire of my story, so he does belong to me .... although that would be contradicting ... agh, en fin, al drabble:

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She was standing on a roof from one of the highest buildings in the city. Her eyes were brighter than ever, as she thought of the work she'd have to do starting tomorrow, and until a few months later. War was coming closer and closer. She knew it would not be as long as the World Wars from the 20th century (she heard it from a 'life spirit' she didn't hate that much), but definitely, this would be the worst one. Or the best one from her point of view, though.
 

 

-Are you enjoying this? -Asked a voice, and she turned to see a long-haired winged man, with a severe look on his face.
 

 

-Of course I am. I'm the 'so feared' Death, anyways. -Answered her, without smiling -But don't be jealous. I'm sure after this war is over, a lot of women will get pregnant and you'll have as much work as I do now. -She was obviously making fun of him.
 

 

-You don't want to make fun of me right now. I'm really not in the mood. -Said the Life Spirit, threatening, placing his sword's blade very close to her face.
 

 

-Are you trying to scare me, little angel?  -Death asked, and a few minutes later, they heard a distant noise from the sky. And so did the citizens, who started yelling right away that a bomb was coming.
 

 

-You should go now. Your party is about to start. -He said, serious and preparing to fly.
 

 

-Why are you so mad at me? You and your little friends were the ones who gave those 'war-freaks' life, remember?
 

 

Without saying anything else, they both smiled. He disappeared in the dark sky and she looked to the city once more. Death began her landing, and suddenly, she laughed. After all, that was the only life spirit she didn't hate *that* much.

-My party is about to start.

She Said, grabbing her scythe with Excitement growing as she stared the fire. -----------------------------



JAJAJA now that I think the tremendous introduction to piuricie pA ; paragraph XD. Whatever

. Or would the teacher Freddy, "Whathevah '."
QUIT THE SILENCE = COMMENT! ~ Ange

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Staging # 5: The End of the United

At last I got inspired to re-write, what emotion ... This time is another 100% drama, based on a story told to me by my older sister when I was about 8 or 9 years, and that gave me so much pain that I wanted to write XD I remember now. So yes, because after ten years, my memory fails a little, I had to invent some things and changed some other, so the thing is 50 and 50 with what was and what forced him to be.

This story I have no idea who owns, because my sister told me ten years ago approx. I do not know if he invented it (as was done with the stories they told me) or if removed from somewhere, in any way transformed it by 70%. Whatever. Enjoy.

"See, see, open your mouth, my prince. So, look, "aaaah" ... EHEA, see? Do you see that is not so bad? Ya, another one, which is half of the soup yet ...

The son smiled through her lips mature, showing their teeth and making uneven smiling mother with him. The minutes passed quickly, and the mother's heart shuddered when he saw the clock read 13:00. He coughed, trying to distance his face as much as possible of the child.

- Are we going to brush our teeth ...? I put the watch face that looks ugly. Come, come, we brush our teeth and then we left to go, okay?

The mother took the great hand of the child through his arms crossed, while down the stairs carefully. He coughed again, his hands crimson paint thinner, which trembled like his legs, the son, smiling and waving to neighbors of the apartment who were walking, and the mother smiled tenderly, seeing increased exponentially soon the number of neighbors and the son she had. The eyes of Dona Milerna and their clients began to perch on them with forced smiles, while resting on a bench in the square with their hairstyles bulky, probably commenting on how difficult it would be for the mother to raise a child all alone jerk for so many years. The mother turned around, letting the child to say hello to them no more to talk about. Coughed again. And the son turned to her, expressionless, gazing with eyes of a child trapped in adult face.

reaching its floor, the mother walked deliberately passing on the accounts under the door, unwilling to even have to remember them. He looked at his watch and turned to shake a shiver down the back: 14:45. He took a deep breath.

"Yes, my prince. Now I'm going to swim to make it pretty well. Today we will see his daddy, so you have to be well groomed.

The mother bathed the child with an air of ritual. Cut your nails and hair after drying, carefully watching that none would be lost in your neck firm or his broad shoulders. He looked his best suit and dressed, while the child was smiling with his mouth agape, watching his mother to strive to find the perfect tie for that dress that had once belonged to the father.

- Do you dream, my prince? "He asked to hear him yawn. - Want to sleep a bit while waiting for dad?

-Do ... dommmir ... "Stammered the son in reply, and she went to bed.

"Sleep no more, my prince. I wake up when her daddy.

Minutes later, the mother sat at the dinner table, opposite the entrance principal, in his best suit. He would sit and wait. Looked at the clock for the last time: 16:15. There were only 45 minutes, and the mother's chest pressed against her father's photograph, taken from his grave the day before. In his tired eyes began to blur images, and the mother took both hands to her face and sobbed in despair, seeing the bills under the door, the eviction order on the table and the other herbs on a plate of soup, which had advised Mrs. Mirta to end it all at once; coughing whenever spraying Masy hands with his life, warm red that fell through his fingers.

17:00. The mother knew without having to see the clock, then felt a terrible noise coming from the fourth child. He turned from black face and white hair neatly brushed, heading for the room, forgetting her own discomfort and trying to ignore the weakness of his legs and difficulty breathing.

Even knowing what would be the mother could not help but kneel beside the child, like leaving dying to see it end up convulsing with half his body out of bed, shedding his tears on his face purple, and placing her knees on the white foam that came out of the mouth mature uneven teeth.

Doña Milerna, the home and truck, however, testified to hearing a woman cry heartbreaking and long before discovering the bodies.

--------- o ----------

That's all. A little cebollento, I know, for something I said I was sorry when my sister told me, although I'm not sure you have known to raise the drama of the way I wanted, nor whether it was indeed sad and shit happened to ... whatever, the thing is that I post something after millennia of not writing anything, right?

XD Oh, and before it returns to ask me: "QUIT THE SILENCE" = COMMENT! XD


Au revoir.